“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Are you off too?”
“As soon as the Johnny brings the bill,” Davenant answered.
“I’ll settle up,” Macheson declared. “Take the automobile. I’ll follow you in a few minutes.”
Mademoiselle Flossie, called back to her own table, hurried off with a parting squeeze of Macheson’s hand. He sat down alone for a moment. At the other end of the room, a darkey with a doll’s hat upon his head was singing a coon song!
CHAPTER V
THE AWAKENING
Alone for the first moment of the evening, it seemed to Macheson that a sudden wave of confounding thoughts surged into his brain, at war from the first with all that was sensuous and brilliant in this new and swiftly developed phase of his personality. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when again he opened them it seemed indeed as though a miracle had taken place. The whole atmosphere of the room was changed. He looked around, incredulous, amazed. The men especially were different. Such good fellows as they had seemed a few moments ago—from his altered point of view Macheson regarded them now in scornful curiosity. Their ties were awry, their hair was ruffled, their faces were paled or flushed. The laughter of women rang still through the place, but the music had gone from their mirth. It seemed to him that he saw suddenly through the smiles that wreathed their lips, saw underneath the barren mockery of it all. This hideous travesty of life in its gentler moods had but one end—the cold, relentless path to oblivion. Louder and louder the laughter rang, until Macheson felt that he must close his ears. The Devil was using his whip indeed.